A Teen in Skyrim
by Polytheist
Summary: A teenager awakens in Skyrim and cannot wait to experience this whole new reality. A look into what might actually happen if a modern teenaged player found themselves in the game of Skyrim.
1. Scenario 1

**A Teen in Skyrim**

_Polytheist_

Disclaimer: all copyrighted material belongs to their respective owners

_A teenager awakens in Skyrim and cannot wait to experience this whole new reality._

**A Teen in Skyrim**

It's funny the first things that race through your mind as you drift away from the land of dreams. It was like some kind of weird checklist: male, eighteen and destined to remain unemployed because the Americans decided to show off their stellar intellectual reputation by giving loans to people they knew couldn't pay them back thereby poisoning the Global Economy; or so my Dad ranted after he was made redundant a year back.

It was only during the automatic checking that every limb had survived the night that I realised that I wasn't in my bed.

Or my room.

I think it was the bum-numbing wooden bench I was sitting on, the teeth-rattling movement and the bone-chilling cold that gave it away to be honest.

Blinking fully awake I noticed I was in a carriage opposite a rather familiar looking blond man.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake," it was Ralof; but he was a character from a game, which must have meant that...

"I'm in Skyrim," I muttered.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" Ralof continued, "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

The thief in question, Lokir, retorted; having heard the opening spiel dozens of times I tuned them out, my mind buzzing.

If I was in Skyrim then that meant I was the Dragonborn.

I smiled at this.

A new life; one with an actual future.

I could do anything I wanted and if I didn't give that court wizard the Dragonstone I wouldn't have to worry about any dragons showing up at annoying times.

As the carriage approached Helgen I mused on which factions to join. I immediately dismissed the Companions as I didn't fancy experiencing the werewolf transformation and the Dark Brotherhood didn't really have any real benefits. I could join the Thieves Guild and simply keep the Skeleton Key, and the Mage's College was always good for a laugh; plus that Dark Elf chick was probably cute in the flesh.

Which lead to a very important question: who would I marry? As this was real life as opposed to the game I assumed that the marriage part would be a lot more interactive, shall we say?

I immediately thought of Lydia, but dismissed her as that would require activating the dragons. Jordis was an acceptable replacement, but that would require grinding out all those Septims for Proudspire and, while it was a nice house, the thought of doing all that work was boring. Then I remember that girl in Shor's Stone, what was her name? Silvia? No there was a y, g and j in it somewhere...Sylgja that was it; how do you pronounce that anyway? Anyway her mission was a simple fetch quest and judging from her character model she was fairly young; maybe even close to my own age. But then if this was real as opposed to a game, did that mean anyone was marriageable?

The carriage and disembarking of my fellow prisoners dislodged my fantasies of Elisif the Fair and being Jarl- and High Queen-Consort; or whatever the terms were.

With an irritated sigh I jumped from the carriage. At least I didn't have to go through the character creation.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," Hadvar began reading down his list.

I rolled my eyes.

"If the Empires loves their list so much why isn't it in any order?" I muttered.

God, sorry, Gods this was boring. Not even Lokir's fatal attempt at a prison break was interesting, having seen it so often. Although I was surprised he hadn't pissed himself beforehand; he did act like the type who would.

"Does anyone else feel like running?" The Redguard Officer glared.

I rolled my eyes again. I was the only one left; who was she trying to intimidate, the carriage wood grain?

"Wait. You there. Step forward," Hadvar commanded.

"Finally," I muttered, steeping forwarded.

"Who are you?"

"Andrew Cresswell," I announced.

"Odd name," Hadvar muttered as he wrote it down. I blinked; didn't he want to know how it was spelt? "You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman."

I blinked again, "You think I'm a Nord. No I'm a Breton; I always play as a Breton."

Both of them ignored me, continuing with their little byplay that concluded with the Redguard commanding me to the block.

"Gods you are such a bitch lady," I didn't even try keep my voice down as I took my place in the crowd.

I resisted the urge to tap my foot as General Tulius gloated at Ulfric; it was boring enough waiting to play let alone experiencing it.

Finally after Alduin's scare tactics I was summoned to the headsman's block.

As I knelt before it I hesitated; they could have at least cleaned it. Then Captain Whatever-her-name-is forced me onto it with her foot.

Bile rose in the back of my throat as the foul coppery smell of the blood hit me; not at all helped by the stickiness on my neck. I closed my eyes and began to hum _Tale of the Tongues _as a distraction.

Hmm, there's a thought, if I wrote down the song and sold the tune to the Bard's College I wonder how much money I could get? Maybe the bards would sing it without me having to defeat Alduin.

The train of thought was derailed by the sound of something very heavy landing on a stone tower combined with Stormcloak Officer Obvious' cry of "Dragon."

Well he certainly took his sweet time to get here.

Then the world spun as I was hurled by the force of the Alduin's Shout.

Pain shot through my back as I slammed into a piece of fallen masonry, ripping the breath from my throat.

"Come on the Gods won't give us another chance," Ralof was shouting.

I coughed, taking deep breaths as I managed to stagger to my feet.

"No, don't worry I fine," I muttered as Ralof ran to the tower, "it's not like there is a giant dragon trying to destroy the town or anything."

I ran in the direction of the tower, only for a meteor to impact directly in front of me; showering my in rather hot shrapnel.

"Jesus!" I cried, throwing my bound arms in front of my face. With my hands still held up I ran into the tower.

Immediately I began looking for a dagger or something to cut my binds; having your hands bound may prevent you from interacting in the game but this was now real life. Sadly however there didn't appear to be anything suitable.

Now Ulfric may by a racist bastard, but I will admit his comeback to Ralof's rather stupid question was quite funny; I think it was the deadpan delivery.

Suddenly the tower shook.

"Up through the tower quickly," Ralof commanded, pushing me up the stairs.

"Alright, alright no need to push," I grumbled.

After waiting for the requisite jump-scare of Alduin bursting through the tower, I stared down at the ruined tavern.

Hang on. If Alduin hadn't conveniently opened a new escape route what was the Stormcloaks plan? Huddle on the roof and pray the kill-happy dragon ignored the newly exposed, fireable targets?

My musing was interrupted by Ralof, "See that inn on the other side? Jump through the roof."

I swallowed. That was a long way.

I shook my head. I was the Dragonborn and this was easily done in the game. So with a deep breath I jumped.

The landing sent painful shockwaves of pain racing up my spine causing my leg to give out from under me, which, because my hands were still bound, cause me to fall face first onto the floor. On the plus side my back no longer bothered me, on the downside now everything else did.

You know somethings are not better when experienced.

I scrambled across the floor to the drop where I, with a groan of pain, eased myself down from and stumbled out of the building. I really hope those healing potions are fast acting when I find them.

In a rather ache-filled daze I followed Hadvar through Helgen, grateful that the pain was lessening as we reached the keep.

I resisted the urge to tap my foot as Hadvar and Ralof had their little bitchfest; they did realise there was a dragon killing everyone around them right?

Then came the moment to choose: Ralof or Hadvar? Cheap crap from the sister's house or access to free ingots at the friendly blacksmiths? Like it was a choice.

I raced passed Hadvar into the keep.

And it was just as damp and draughty as I imagined. Joy.

After listening to Hadvar prattle on about some apocalyptic crap I finally got my binds off. And he couldn't do that before we raced through the burning town with the killer dragon because?

Shaking my head I raced over to the chest and took the light armour from it.

It sucks I had to wear a skirt until Riverwood but it was better than wearing nothing.

Come to think of it, how did you put the bloody thing on?

Ten minutes of fiddling, swearing and a rather embarrassing hop-like dance, I finally managed to get it fastened, all the while Hadvar was methodically rubbing his burn salve onto his wrists; I swear that bastard was smirking the entire time.

Hmm, it was a bit tight across the chest; didn't really expect that.

Grumbling under my breath about useless Nords and the validity of their parentage, I grabbed the sword from the rack; giving it a few practice swings.

Now came the fun part: swinging swords and shooting fire from your hands.

That was a point, how did you use magic in Skyrim?

I stared down at my hand and willed fire to appear, which accomplished nothing apart from given me a headache.

I frowned; everyone in the Elder Scrolls could use magic, so surely it should be easy.

Wait, further on there will be spellbook for Sparks, which was bound to instruct how to do it; after all it had to be an actual book rather than a consumable.

Satisfied I raced to join Hadvar as he opened the gate.

Not waiting I charged through the doorway towards the two Stormcloak soldiers that were waiting beyond.

It was then I came to two rather interesting realisations.

One, I was teenager from the Computer Age and therefore didn't know the first thing about how to swing a sword and, two, my impromptu battle-cry had lost me the element of surprise.

This meant that my attack, rather than hitting the shoulder of one of the soldiers, hit his shield instead; sending painfully reverberation up my arm. The impact sending my recoiling back, which fortunately allowed Hadvar to engage the soldier.

Unfortunately it left me facing the soldier wielding the greatsword, who was currently telegraphing a power attack.

I smirked as I raised my sword to block.

The painfully reverberation from the impact caused my hand to unconsciously spasm and my sword fell from my lifeless fingers, clattering on the stone floor.

I stared dumbly at my empty hand.

"You aren't suppose to be able to disarm..."

My words were cut off as the soldier's greatsword slammed into my shoulder; the heavy blade biting through the flimsy armour.

I heard, rather than felt, my collarbone shatter under the impact.

I fell to the floor.

Numbly I stared up at the ceiling, feeling tears streaming into my hair, my words forced out between ragged breaths and blood-filled coughs.

"But...I'm...Dragonborn...can't...die."

And then there was darkness.


	2. Scenario 2

**A Teen in Skyrim**

_Polytheist_

Disclaimer: all copyrighted material belongs to their respective owners

_A teenager awakens in Skyrim and cannot wait to experience this whole new reality._

**A Teen in Skyrim**

Waking up in a video game is hardly a cause for celebration, unless that game is Skyrim in which case it's awesome.

Sure it was a little cold and the rattling of the carriage was annoying, but that didn't matter for I was now the Dragonborn; a mortal born with the soul of a dragon, destined to defeat the World-Eater Alduin and save all of Tamriel.

This was going to be epic: swinging huge battleaxes, shouting dragons down from the sky, hurling lightning bolts at the twist, degenerated Falmer and, most importantly, pushing those Imperial Bastards out of the north. And if I got bored maybe become a vampire; that Serana chick from the Dawnguard add-on was hot.

I instantly knew those who were tied up with me.

There was Ralof, a blond Stormcloak soldier; a gagged Ulfric Stormcloak, Skyrim's true High-King; and Lokir of Rorikstead, the most cowardly person I had every laid eyes on – and I had a little sister.

Come to think of it they were looking at me a little oddly. It was probably because I was ignoring their attempts at conversation because, to be honest it really didn't interest me; I watched the carriage scene once then continually used the auto-save when creating a new character because it was just so boring.

Or it could be because I was humming _Ragnar the Red_; damn that tune was catchy.

Eventually we made it into Helgen. I had to force myself not to roll my eyes when Ralof when starting going on about some childish crush he once had; Gods you think he was a teenage girl not some burly Nord warrior.

I did however start tapping my foot when they were checked against Hadvar's dammed list. I think I was annoying the Redguard Captain, which was a plus; or maybe she always look like a dog farted under her nose.

Huh, Lokir tried to run again; I'd think that after all those time he died before would have tipped him off that resistance was futile.

"Wait. You there Imperial. Step forward," Hadvar commanded.

"Are you blind?" I growled, "I'm a Nord you moron."

The two soldiers glanced at each other.

"Very well Nord," Hadvar conceded, "What is your name?"

I smirked; I had always wanted to do this.

"Why should I tell you Imperial Pigs anything?"

Hadvar sighed. "It is to insure you are returned properly."

"So you are going to executed me whether I'm on your precious list or not," this was fun.

Once again the two glanced at each; this time Hadvar shrugged.

"He does have a point," the Redguard said.

I smirked triumphantly.

"No sense in delaying any longer."

My eyes widened as she unsheathed her sword; this wasn't how it was suppose to go.

I gasped as she stabbed my right through the chest; blood flowing as the blade withdrew.

My whole body went numb as I fell to my knees.

"But...Alduin," I spluttered around the coughs of blood.

As darkness took my senses I couldn't believe the final words I heard.

"Who's Alvin?" Hadvar asked.

"No idea. Write it down, must've been his name."


End file.
